Oh, but That One Night
by jlangblues
Summary: "Finn hates airports. Like, the sort of legitimate hate that people usually reserve for telemarketers or spiders or something." AU, based off a prompt from finchel-prompts.


**A/N**: So, I know you're probably all sick of me at this point, but I saw this prompt and could not help myself. It's the Longterm Layover prompt, and let me preface this by saying: it's AU, and it's _completely_ random and slightly ridiculous. But this was fun to write, so I hope you enjoy!

(**Also**: I'm rating this as T, but there _is _a light sex scene. It's more funny than smutty, but if sex makes you uncomfortable, I'd probably skip the last couple parts of this story. As well, if something seems unrealistic about the airport... just roll with it. This isn't supposed to be super serious - mostly just fun! And finally, I do poke a little fun at Jesse St. James in this, again, not being serious :) Thanks!)

-x-

Finn hates airports. Like, the sort of legitimate hate that people usually reserve for telemarketers or spiders or something. He's not sure when this hate started – his mom and him used to fly out to California when he was younger, to visit his grandma and her boyfriend, and he knows that he didn't hate them back then. He thought they were cool, because he was little and he thought that anything outside of Lima was cool at that point in time. Going to Columbus was like, the most awesome thing in the world.

But then he grew up and he slowly started to realize that airports fucking _suck_. And it's not just one little thing about them that bothers him – all of it bothers him. The lines that always seem to last forever when he's trying to pick up his boarding pass, the annoying people at security who always complain about having to take their shoes off, the crying babies at the gates. It's just like one big ball of suckiness.

He can't avoid airports, though. With his job, it'd be pretty impossible. He's a journalist for this magazine that's supposedly based out of New York City, but that has him flying out to LA like, every other week. He likes his job a lot and he usually gets to fly in first class, but that doesn't mean the whole airport thing gets any better. The food might be better in first class (they serve juice in champagne glasses – pretty badass), but the annoying people? Yeah. They're everywhere, Finn's come to learn.

God, and the fact that he always seems to sit next to that one person on the plane who forgot to take a shower that morning, or the person who just wants to talk for hours and hours about stupid stuff that totally doesn't matter and that Finn really could not care less about. People always try to do that small talk thing on planes, and it doesn't necessarily bother him, but when it's six o'clock in the morning and he's just trying to sleep for a few hours – it's kind of obnoxious.

But whatever. Finn can handle the lines, and the annoying people, and all that shittiness. He doesn't like it, but it's not as if that stuff bothers him that much. No, the thing about airports that pisses Finn off the most, like, to no end?

Delays. Or worse, cancellations.

He shifts in his seat a little, looks out the window. His flight boarded alright and everything, right at six a.m like it was supposed to, but the second that everyone was seated, the captain had come over the loudspeaker, talking about the possibility that a snowstorm might be causing issues at other airports on the east coast or whatever. Cool, fine – this flight isn't going to other airports on the east coast, it's going to California, so Finn didn't see exactly how the hell that snowstorm was holding them up.

But then, a couple minutes after the captain had made that announcement, these big, fat snowflakes had starting falling, and before long, he could barely see the tarmac when he looked out the window. And now the captain is back on the loudspeaker, apologizing but stating that the flight is going to have to be delayed for the forseeable future, but that they're not going to de-board the plane just yet.

The girl next to him groans loudly, dropping her head into the palm of her hands.

"I don't have time for this," she says, her voice muffled.

It's not clear exactly who she's talking to, because Finn's pretty sure that she's flying alone; he assumes that she's talking to him. But he doesn't know who she's kidding, because no one on this plane has time for this delay – who gets on a flight at six in the morning for kicks, you know? You only fly that early if you really have some place to go.

So he tells her, "I don't think anyone does," and she sighs irritably, looks over at him.

"I understand that everyone has somewhere to be, but this is a matter of life or death," she says, and she says it so seriously that for a split second, Finn wonders if she's actually telling the truth. But she looks healthy and stuff, so he thinks that she's just exaggerating.

"I doubt it. You look fine," Finn says, and her face drops the second he says that.

He would apologize, but he doesn't actually know her and honestly, he's just as annoyed about this delay as she is. This delay means that they'll probably be placed on the flight at one, and the flight at one has shit food compared to the breakfast food that's served on this airline. So, no one's really winning in this situation. And obviously, yeah, he's annoyed because this means that he's going to have to reschedule all of his interviews, and sometimes PR people get pissy about that sort of thing, as if Finn should be able to control the weather and stuff.

But he doesn't want to piss this girl off, because she does look upset and maybe it is a matter of life and death or something. Maybe one of her relatives is sick, so he clears his throat to get her attention, and she looks at him cautiously.

"Yes?"

"That was rude of me," Finn says, and the girl just snorts in response – like, obviously it was rude, tell me something I don't know. So Finn continues and says, "I'm sure that if we don't take off now, the flight will be rescheduled for later today. I don't think this storm's supposed to be that bad, right?"

She purses her lips, takes a deep breath, as if she's trying to talk herself out of jumping off a ledge. "I needed this flight today," she says, then for more emphasis, "_today_." She waits a beat, clearly waiting for Finn to ask about just why she needs this flight today, but Finn knows her type – if she wants him to know, she'll tell him.

She doesn't disappoint, because a second later, she says, "I have an _audition_ at one o'clock," she says, with a reverence tone to the word 'audition'. "And I don't know how well you know Jesse St. James, but he does not take well to people who don't make audition times. Especially people who have to delay their audition by a _day_," she practically wails.

Finn considers this for a second, then nods. "Yeah, he is kind of a douche."

And the guy is. Finn interviewed him about his last movie, and Jesse spent the whole time going on and on about like, feng shui and zen and it just completely confused Finn because legit, the only question he really asked was, 'how was it shooting in Austin?'. He still doesn't understand how Jesse managed to drag yoga and Buddhism into the discussion, but whatever.

The girl looks at him, confused. "Wait. You _know_ Jesse?"

She sounds absolutely shocked, and Finn nods. "Yeah, I've interviewed him a couple times. Kind of a dick, if you ask me," Finn says, shrugging. He doesn't really care about telling that to people, because everyone knows, and it's not like Finn'll get fired for telling the truth. (He's asked his boss this question many, many times.) But Finn's career isn't based on like, kissing people's butts or whatever, so he doesn't really care if word gets back to Jesse St. James that he kind of hates him. And his movies.

Finn glances over at the girl, tries to hold back a laugh. "Don't tell me – you're auditioning for that new zombie movie of his?"

The girl looks at him haughtily; sits up in her chair a little straighter, brushes a hand through her hair with her fingertips. Once she's done preening, she says, "and so what if I am? It'd be an excellent opportunity for a young ingénue like me…" she trails off as Finn rolls his eyes, and she says, sounding a bit upset, "besides, I shouldn't be talking about this with reporters yet. My agent specifically said to state, 'no comment', if anyone happened to ask what I'm auditioning for."

He looks at her a little more carefully now; if she's actually auditioning for a St. James movie and has an agent, he has to have heard of her before. Jesse doesn't usually allow people in his movies that don't have some sort of big time acting experience. No matter how good the person may be, if they haven't been in some sort of huge movie or television show, Jesse passes almost immediately.

This girl doesn't really look like Jesse's type. She's actually pretty, and not just in a typical Hollywood way. She has long brown hair, with bangs that just skim her eyebrows, and she's wearing this bright red pea coat that has little bows on it. Kind of adorable, and yet Finn still can't put a name to her.

She blushes. "I feel as if you're observing me or something of the like. Should I be nervous, that you're going to write an article about the latest Broadway actress attempting to move into the Hollywood mainstream?"

So _that's_ why he doesn't know her. Finn doesn't really cover Broadway, ever. He tried once, but he ended up having his one friend write basically half the article for him. It's not that he doesn't like Broadway, but it just seems too personal almost, to write articles about it – like, these people are performing live, every single night. Who is he to write that, like, their notes went a little flat towards the end of that song before the end of the first act?

Finn smiles at her though, shakes his head. "Nah. But if you do end up being in St. James' movie, I _will_ make sure to write in the article a question about why someone like you would lower yourself to his level."

She giggles, covers her hand with her mouth, then shakes her head, trying to look serious. "I shouldn't be laughing at the expense of my future employer," she says, as if correcting her behavior. She sighs then, and looks at her watch. "I just wish they'd tell us if they're actually going to cancel this flight or not, so I can make other arrangements. I'm also getting a bit claustrophobic," she says, and she folds her arms across her chest. She looks at Finn quickly, then the girl who's sitting across the aisle from them; wrinkles her nose for a brief second.

Finn doesn't even have to ask, he just looks at her sympathetically; looks like she got the luxury of sitting near the smelly person today.

He glances around the airplane, and he sees that stewardesses converging near the front of the plane. The snow is still falling steadily outside, and he knows that within a few minutes, they're going to be told to get off from the plane. Sucks that he's going to have to reschedule his flight, but at this point, he's starving and all he can think about is getting off the plane and finding a place to get breakfast. Besides, he's pretty sure that he's starting to catch a whiff of the woman who's near Broadway Girl, and it is _not_ a good smell.

Pulling out his briefcase from underneath the seat in front of him, he glances over at the girl. She's looking a bit miserable, and Finn honestly does feel a little bad for her. Yeah, Jesse is a jerk, but she was clearly looking forward to this audition, and he knows how hard she must've worked just to get a _chance_ to be in a room with someone like St. James.

Sighing, he says to her, "hey, what's your name?"

She sniffles a little, and responds, "Rachel Berry."

Holding out his hand, he shakes hers, and says, "I know one of the producer's on Jesse's new movie. I can give her a call if you want… make sure that they're not going to just completely bail on seeing you for the audition? If you want," he finishes uncomfortably.

He doesn't like calling on Santana for favors a lot, because usually she thinks that means that he'll automatically write up a kickass review for whatever her latest project is, but Rachel just looks so depressed. He'd feel kind of like an asshole if he didn't try to help her out at all. He just hopes that she's actually a good actress, because he'll feel so stupid if he went to bat for a girl who needs Visine to cry or whatever.

Rachel clasps her hands together, holds them to her chest. "That would be wonderful," she says, relief evident in her voice. "Of course, I'll call them myself to make sure they're aware of the situation, but it always helps to have someone else vouch for me, as well." She smiles gratefully at him. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe that I know your name?"

"Oh – um, it's Finn. Finn Hudson," he says, and Rachel leans forward, placing a hand on his knee. Finn looks down quickly before looking back up at her.

"Thank you so much, Finn," she says sincerely. "I'll make sure to mention you in my acceptance speech, for the Oscar I'm undoubtedly going to win for my work on this movie."

Finn's not so sure if this movie's going to actually win any awards (it's about a singing zombie colony, for fuck's sake), but Rachel seems so happy and genuine, that he doesn't want to upset her any more.

"Thanks," he says, smiling at her, and she nods, looking pleased with herself. A stewardess's voice comes over the loudspeaker, then, and says,

"We apologize for the inconvenience, but at this point we're going to have to de-board the plane due to inclement weather. This flight will be delayed until around four o'clock this afternoon; please see an agent at the gate if there are any concerns or needs for alternate arrangements. Thank you!"

"No, thank you," Rachel says a little grumpily, as she pulls her bag off from the floor and onto her lap. Looking over at Finn, she forces a smile onto her face. "Well, Finn. Would you maybe like to get something to eat? I think I'd rather stay at the airport versus trying to brave the weather in order to make it back to my apartment," she says, frowning as she looks outside the window. The snow's still falling in big, fluffy, wet flakes. It'd be pretty if it wasn't totally fucking up everyone's plans; Finn glances over at Rachel.

"Sure."

"And you can tell me all about Mr. St. James," Rachel says, perking up a little. They both stand up and start to make their way down the aisle and towards the exit. Finn rolls his eyes, and says,

"I don't want to ruin my breakfast."

Rachel giggles. Finn thinks that maybe she's under the impression that he's joking or something, but he's totally not, because Jesse literally does suck. Almost as much as airports, to be honest, and when Finn tells her that, Rachel just laughs again, tilts her head back and laughs with practically her entire body.

She turns her head so that she can look at him as she smiles, and he almost trips over some random person's luggage that's just chilling in the middle of the aisle.

Rachel may not be typical Hollywood hot, but she is hot, like ridiculously so. She holds out a hand so that he can brace himself on something, so that he doesn't completely fall flat on his face.

"_Goodness_," Rachel says, as Finn straightens out, trying to look calm and cool and collected; he knows that he's failing miserably though, as Rachel brushes a hand quickly across the front of his jacket, smoothing it out. "Falling for me already?" she teases, and he just smiles at her as they walk out of the plane.

Maybe the flight being delayed wasn't the worst thing to happen.

-x-

They sit on the floor of the airport, Rachel eating a fruit cup and Finn eating this enormous breakfast sandwich that's vegan but actually pretty decent – he doesn't mind vegetables, as long as they taste like more than just rabbit food or whatever. She looks at him jealously as he eats.

"That looks delicious," she says wistfully, and he swallows a big bite thickly.

"Why didn't you get one?" he asks, taking another bite. Rachel sighs, stabbing a couple blueberries with her fork.

"Too many carbs," she says, and she tilts her head back against the wall, biting the blueberries off from her fork one by one. "I always thought that the old saying, the camera adds ten pounds, was just a joke, something to scare inspiring artists from following their dreams. It turns out that there's actually a bit of truth to the statement."

Finn looks at her, brow furrowed. "You're tiny," he says, and it's true – he's not just saying that to make her feel better or whatever. She looks like she only weighs a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, and when they're standing, if it wasn't for her super high heels, she probably wouldn't even come up to his shoulders.

Rachel looks at him, smiles a little. "Thank you," she says, and she takes a bite of a particularly large chunk of honeydew. "But I've been in this business long enough to know that it doesn't take much for one person to consider you tiny, another person to consider you…" and she trails off, doesn't say anything more, just takes another bite of the honeydew. Uncomfortably, she doesn't meet Finn's gaze, and he sighs.

He loves what he does, but it sucks that he has to hear women talking about how ugly they are, or how fat they are, or how they don't look totally perfect one hundred percent of the time. Sometimes when he's conducting interviews, he feels like he's almost running a therapy session – he always tries to make sure to tell all the actresses and singers that they're pretty and talented and stuff, but they never seem to believe him, always just laughing and saying that if he was a casting director, he wouldn't know how to say no.

And yeah, maybe he wouldn't, but still. It's not fair that people get to just judge these girls, say whatever they want about them; make them feel like eating a vegan sandwich will suddenly make them gain a thousand pounds, or make them think that's the reason they won't get hired for a job.

He holds out the sandwich to Rachel, and she looks at him quickly, before shaking her head. "I'm fine with my fruit cup," she says, holding it up as if for evidence. Finn rolls his eyes, and Rachel sighs, leaning over and taking a miniscule bite of his sandwich. She smiles at him.

"Are you vegan?" she asks, and she holds her hand in front of her mouth when she asks the question, so there's no chance he can possibly see any of the food she's chewing.

"No, but my ex-girlfriend was really into healthy eating, so – I guess I'm kind of used to eating this kind of stuff," Finn says, and he takes another big bite of the sandwich as Rachel blushes just a bit.

"Ex-girlfriend? Recent?" Rachel questions, as she places the now empty fruit cup down beside her.

"Four months," Finn says, and then thinks for a moment, before correcting himself. "Five months. I think. I don't know. It wasn't really a big deal," he says, and it wasn't. They dated for a long time, but after a while, they kind of just drifted apart. She took the dog, he took the apartment, and he was left with a craving for that healthy food she'd been forcing on him for the past five years.

Rachel nods. "It's always nice when people can remain friends after break-ups," she says cheerfully. "For instance, my ex-boyfriend -."

Finn interrupts her quickly, "hey, I mean, we don't have to talk about like, exes and stuff." Rachel stops talking abruptly, and Finn continues, "we can just, you know, talk about your audition and job and – and how shitty airports are."

Rachel just stares at him for a second, before nodding slowly and gracing him with a smile. "That sounds wonderful."

Finn doesn't say anything in response, looks around the airport. It's crowded – beyond crowded, because it looks like all of the flights out of the place have been cancelled. There were no seats in the café, so Rachel and him have been sitting against the wall by their gate for the past twenty minutes or so. It seems like every other minute, he hears a new voice screaming at the gate agents about an absolute need to get the hell out of New York City, this very second, dammit.

He doesn't see the point in yelling at the gate agents, to be honest. There's no way it's safe to fly a plane in the middle of this snowstorm, and there's no way he's chancing going home, on the off chance that somehow a plane to LA does manage to get out and he can't get to the airport before it leaves.

Rachel's in the same boat, so they decided that they'll wait at the airport for as long as possible, to see when the next flight to LA will be.

But now that they're not talking about food or exes, it turns out that Rachel was actually serious when she said that she wanted to talk about Jesse St. James. It kind of makes Finn want to shoot himself in the face, but he forces himself to humor her questions.

"I've heard that he has actresses do very… interesting things, during their auditions," Rachel says delicately. "Confirm or deny?"

"Both?" Finn says, and he explains, "he's not going to like, get you naked or whatever."

"I would never do that," Rachel says, sounding highly offended, and Finn continues,

"But he does have you do method acting. He wants you to be in character the minute you get inside the room, and he doesn't want you to break. He might say like, 'oh, Rachel, let's discuss your past jobs' or 'wow, what a wonderful shirt you're wearing' or whatever, but he doesn't _actually_ want you to talk about that." Finn rolls his eyes. "He'll want you to be like, 'who's this Rachel you're speaking of' or 'yeah, and I'm a zombie, so this shirt's not going to be helping me much anymore'."

Rachel stares at him with her jaw dropped, and she nervously pulls at the hem of her dress. "He's not going to want me to rip off my dress or something, is he? I should've brought fake blood," Rachel says, distressed, and she starts to rummage through her purse. "I think I have a red Sharpie in here – maybe I can draw some lines on my arms or something of the sort, to create an illusion of blood?" She looks at Finn for reassurance, and he forces a smile.

"Yeah. Sure. He'd probably love that."

And he probably would too, because Jesse just loves when girls throw themselves at him. It's sad though, because Finn actually thinks that Rachel seems like a nice person; she shouldn't be working this hard to get a chance to work with such a dick, honestly.

"Why don't you like him?" Rachel asks, and she looks at him curiously. "I've never known a journalist to take such a strong, strong disliking to a director before. You'd think you'd get along, actually – Jesse's rather young and prominent in his field, and obviously you're young and prominent in your field…"

"I'm not prominent," Finn corrects her, "I just write a column that people read sometimes. And I don't know, I guess it's just – I've seen girls work their asses off for him, and he never says thank you, never says good job. It's like no matter what, no one's ever good enough for him. And it sucks, because then I have to write these interviews about him that basically say that he's just misunderstood or some bullshit." Finn stops and he shakes his head. "Sorry, that was all – off the record," he says awkwardly, because yeah, he hates the guy, but no, he doesn't need all of this conversation being blasted on the internet or something – Finn Hudson and his Grudge Against Jesse St. James.

That wouldn't exactly do wonders for his career.

Rachel smiles, pats him on the knee. Whenever she leans over closer to him, he can smell her shampoo; it's like a mixture of citrus fruit, and it reminds him of summer days, or like, the color yellow.

"Your secret's safe with me," Rachel says. "And I promise, if anything, Jesse St. James will be working his rear end off for _me_. After all, I'm going to be a star – it's only a matter of time. I just need the right vehicle to propel me into the spotlight."

"And you think this is the one?" Finn asks, seriously. "A movie about zombies?"

Rachel giggles. "Well, the zombies _are_ singing love songs and trying to protect the human race. It's revolutionary," she says, and Finn can't tell if she's joking or not, but he's pretty sure that she's being at least a little serious, because she doesn't seem like the type of person who would make jokes about her profession.

She pulls her legs up to her chest, lays her head down on her knees. She lets out this yawn that sort of sounds like a cat meowing, and she closes her eyes. "I'm so exhausted," she says, and she pouts a little. "I thought I'd be able to be sleeping at this point. I generally _always_ fall asleep the minute the plane takes off."

"Late night?" Finn asks, and Rachel opens one eye to look at him. She gives him a half-smile.

"Yes. I went to a cast party last night, and well – they tend to get a bit out of control," she says carefully, and Finn smirks back at her.

"Don't tell me any information you wouldn't want printed in the magazine," he says, half-warning, and Rachel shrugs one shoulder.

"What, like how the cast of Grease loves to play Spin the Bottle and Never have I Ever?" she asks, and Finn laughs.

"I guess. I was kind of hoping for something maybe a little more incriminating," Finn says, and Rachel licks her bottom lip, looks at him with an eyebrow raised.

"If I told you all that happened, you would never look at me the same way," she says, and Finn can feel his heart starting to beat faster in his chest, because yeah, Rachel's hot and she's looking at him in this way that he hasn't really seen in a long, long time. He doesn't say anything for a second, just holds her gaze as she continues to stare right back at him; almost like she's challenging him or something.

"Besides," Rachel says briskly after a few more moments of silence, "I can't have any news of my escapades getting to LA. I need to make sure that I'm _extremely_ presentable for our dear friend, Jesse."

Finn can't help himself as he rolls his eyes. "You know, for a second there I thought we were almost past talking about him."

"Jealous?" Rachel asks, and Finn wants to say yes, because yeah, he kind of is. And what the fuck, it's not like he's going to see her again necessarily – unless she actually gets that stupid zombie job, so whatever, he's just going to tell her the truth, which is,

"Kind of," Finn says, then adds, "I mean, you're stuck in airport with me, not him, right?"

Rachel looks shocked by his answer for just a second, before her face relaxes into a smile.

"I suppose you're right," she says, and she sits up straight then, stretching her arms over her shoulders. Glancing at him, she says, "Let's find something to do. I can't just sit here for hours, and there has to be something in this airport we can entertain ourselves with."

Finn can think of a couple ways that they can entertain themselves (hello, he's a guy, and she's fucking hot) but figures that maybe that's not the best, or most _polite_, thing to say.

So instead, he says, "Well, let's figure something out then."

He didn't realize that figuring something out would include Rachel deciding she needs to practice her audition piece, and he didn't realize that her monologue would include her demonstrating, full force, that she absolutely does _not_ need Visine to fake any tears.

-x-

Rachel says that she performs best in front of an audience. He thinks that maybe she should correct that in the future to saying that she performs best in front of a willing audience – not an audience that is being forced to watch her, because they're stuck in airport with nothing else to do.

And especially not in front of an audience that is not one hundred percent aware that a performance is going on.

Because he's not sure how this is looking to other people, but if he were watching this scene unfold, he's pretty sure he'd be fucking terrified.

"How could you?" Rachel wails, as she swats him on the shoulder with her purse, which is huge and weighs like ten pounds. She hits him again, and Finn glares at her because that actually _hurt_, but she doesn't say anything, just continues crying, these tears streaming down her face – and damn, if he didn't know better, he'd really think that he was actually an asshole who hurt her.

And by the way the families around them are glaring at him, he's sure they all do. One older gentleman is looking at him as if he's just hit Rachel over the head with a brick or something, and a couple of other ladies are looking at him as if he personally shot their dog. But some people are laughing and pointing, so maybe they're in on the joke?

Hopefully.

"You broke my _heart_," Rachel says, sobbing, and she presses a hand to her chest, as if she's having trouble finding her breath. "And then – and then, to just – to just up and leave, right out of my life? What were you thinking?"

Tears continue streaming down her face, but she doesn't say anything, so Finn thinks that maybe this is all over, thank God. They've been running lines for the past hour, but they've only just started 'rehearsing' the scene twenty minutes ago – and this whole exercise has been going on for twenty minutes too long, because he's pretty sure they're going to get kicked out of the gate soon, for acting _psychotic_.

But then she just looks at him expectantly, and fuck – he forgot his stupid line again, and he quickly mutters,

"I was thinking that maybe our lives would be easier if-."

"If what? If I wasn't a _zombie_?" Rachel sobs, and she widens her eyes demonically, walking up closer to him, standing on her tippy-toes so that she's right in his face. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for this life, but I'm dealing with it the best I can – I'm trying to _protect_ you," she says, and a couple more tears drop from her eyes. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she demands, "are you telling me that you can't be with me just because… because…" and she trails off dramatically, her voice lowering to a whisper.

Finn's blushing bright red, bright tomato red, and he sort of wishes that a hole would open up below him and that he'd fall straight in because honestly, this entire thing is so absolutely ridiculous, and he can't even _try_ to act this sentence out because it's so fucking stupid, but he says it anyway:

"Because you ate my sister's legs. Yeah."

"But I didn't mean to," Rachel whimpers, covering her face with her hands. "I didn't mean to!" she shrieks, and Finn whips his head around to make sure that security isn't going to come up and like, arrest him or something – because honestly, him and Rachel sound insane right now.

(She's crying so hard that her mascara is just dripping down her face, and yeah, she's definitely proven that she's a dedicated actress because honestly, _no one_ should be putting this much effort into this shitty of a script.)

He looks over and sees a security guard standing a few feet away from them, and for a second he actually thinks that maybe him and Rachel are going to get in trouble for this shit or something. But apparently the security guard just thinks it's entertaining, because he's laughing as Rachel drones on and on about how no one will ever love her, and how _difficult_ it is to be the only good zombie in all of New York.

"My whole life," Rachel says, and she puts a hand to her mouth, as if she's even shocked by what she's about to say, "my whole life I've just been waiting for someone to want me. Don't you _want_ me, Donald? Even if I am a zombie?"

Finn takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly.

"No," he says finally. "I'm sorry. But this just isn't going to work out. Not after what happened with Veronica."

Who's Veronica? Why, that's his sister who is in critical condition, due to her legs being _eaten by a zombie. _

Because obviously people want to watch a movie about this shit.

God, Jesse is an idiot.

Rachel walks over to the window, braces her hands against it. A couple of little kids look at her, confused. Finn doesn't blame them – they probably thought they were going to be in LA by now, or at a beach in California, and instead they're watching a twenty-something-year-old have an apparent mental breakdown in the middle of JFK. He'd be terrified, too.

Rachel drags her fingers down through the condensation that's built up on the window. She lets out a low, humorless chuckle.

"I was afraid you'd say that, Donald." She whips her head around, and she puts her hands on her waist. "Which is why… I'm afraid…" she stumbles a little as she walks towards him, as if her legs are giving out, and Finn looks at her questioningly, and Rachel quickly tells him, "Remember, my legs are currently bloody and about to give out, due to you having your German Shepard attack me," before continuing with her dialogue. "I _must_ turn you into a zombie, too."

Another couple of tears trickle down her face, as she wraps her arms around his neck. She lets out a deep breath, and then lightly, she bites him on the neck. He doesn't know what to say, so he just sort of stands there, and then she pulls away, clapping her hands together.

"Oh, I think I nailed it that time!" she says excitedly, jumping up and down. She looks around the gate; people are just staring at her, their mouths open slightly, and Rachel looks back at Finn, confused. "I thought for sure they'd know I was acting. I don't actually think I'm a zombie," she says loudly, and she seems a little prissy now, a little offended, and she runs her fingers through her hair a little, fluffs it up.

"Honestly, you'd think these people have never seen impromptu acting before," Rachel says, and she stage whispers to Finn, "otherwise, you'd think they'd be showering me with applause right now. It's not often that people are witnesses to spontaneous moments of artistry!"

Finn's not exactly sure that he'd call what just happened there artistry, but it certainly was something. If nothing else, he's already thought of a future topic for his column, and it's going to be something along the lines of the absolute bullshit that is fed to America's teens – because he really doesn't think that there's any need for a zombie love story. He just doesn't.

The security guard ambles up to them, as Rachel wipes her fingers underneath her eyes, trying to get rid of the mascara that's still lingering there.

"Quite the show you two put on," he says, motioning between the pair of them.

Finn starts to get nervous now, because he legit cannot get arrested – his boss is cool, but not that cool, and that whole thing about any press being good press? It's not exactly true. He can't think of many people who would want to give an interview to that guy who got arrested for acting out a zombie film in the middle of JFK during that one blizzard.

"Oh, yes," Rachel says brightly, responding to the security guard. "I'm rehearsing for an audition in LA. I'm Rachel -."

"Berry," the guard says, interrupting her, before blushing slightly. "Sorry; my girlfriend and I have gone to see Grease about a thousand times. You're fantastic in it," he says, and then clears his throat uncomfortably, scratching the top of his hat. "But if you're planning on practicing this zombie thing, you're going to have to do it more quietly. I think you scared some of the little kids," he says, almost apologetically. "But it was funny as _hell_. Hope you get the part!"

He gives her a wave, nods at Finn, then walks back down the hallway towards the other gates. Rachel stares after him with wide eyes, before turning to Finn, anguish written all over her face.

"That wasn't supposed to be funny, Finn!" she says desperately. "It was supposed to be heartbreaking, and angst-ridden, and dramatic! What did you think?" she asks, and she grabs onto his one arm with both of her hands.

"I think," Finn begins carefully, "maybe the script could use some work." He's learned how to be pretty diplomatic over the years, and he's seriously glad, because he doesn't want to set Rachel off – especially not in airport where they're currently stranded, because it's not like he could really escape from her or anything.

Rachel nods, and she looks insistent. "But my performance – was there anything wrong with my _performance_?" she stresses.

"Definitely better than any of the other actresses that have been in Jesse's films," he says. And that's him actually being completely honest. Jesse has gotten some good actresses in his films, but seriously, he's not sure if any of them would be able to cry over this zombie stuff like Rachel just did.

Rachel looks a bit more calm, and she releases his arm. "Well, I'll be expecting an excellent review from you then, concerning the film," she says, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. "Especially considering that you helped me run my lines."

Finn doesn't say anything at all, because he can't guarantee that he's going to be writing like, a stellar review for this movie, and he also still doesn't want to believe that Rachel's actually auditioning for this. But he knows that she needs to get her foot in the door, and he supposes that being in such a high profile film will be good for her.

But he's really going to have to grill Jesse, see how the hell he came up with this idea. It's like a car accident or something – he doesn't necessarily want to look, but he _needs_ to know what happened. He _needs_ to know how this idea actually came about, how someone could have possibly thought, hey, this is a fucking _awesome_ idea.

Rachel wraps her arms around his forearm, pulls him closer to her. "I think we should go get some hot tea," she announces. "I need to makes sure that my throat is well rested for tomorrow, and -," she glances at her watch, "- we have a couple more hours before our plane's going to board!"

Finn thinks it's cute that she's being so optimistic, because the snow is still falling heavily and the runway doesn't look like it's being cleared off any time soon. But he likes tea and he kind of wants to get out of this area of the airport, because people are still staring at him and Rachel like they're crazy. So he agrees, and Rachel loops her arm through his, and they go off in search for some tea.

-x-

They find tea at a little café that's a couple of gates away, and Rachel puts extra honey in hers. They find a couple of chairs next to the window, and Rachel looks outside, a sad look on her face.

"I've never hated snow," she tells Finn, "but I'll admit; I'm starting to have a change of heart." She blows on her tea a little, trying to cool it down.

For the past twenty minutes, constant news of flight cancellations has filled the airport, monotone voices explaining the situation over the loudspeaker. Finn's just waiting at this point for confirmation that their flight is officially being pushed off until tomorrow. He already called his boss to let him know what's up, and he made sure to call Santana to make sure that Rachel would still be okay if she auditioned for Jesse tomorrow afternoon. Santana wasn't necessarily happy about it, but apparently Rachel's the front runner for the role, so Jesse was fine with having to wait an extra day to see her.

When Rachel had heard that, she'd almost jumped into Finn's arms excitedly, but it seems that now the excitement has worn off, as she resigns herself to the fact that she might be stuck in the airport overnight.

"I could try to get a cab home," Rachel says unsurely, taking a sip of her tea. "But I'm just nervous that the cab would – oh, I don't know, drive off the road or something of the sort, maybe crash into a snow bank. With my luck, that's _exactly_ what would happen."

Finn shrugs, leaning against the back of the chair. "I mean, it's not the worst thing ever if we spend the night here," he says. "I mean, there's food. And chairs. It's not like the Ritz or anything, but we can make it work."

Rachel shivers, pulls her jacket closer around her, but she tries to look a little happier. "At least I didn't check my luggage," she says. "That way, I can make sure that I can complete my full night time regimen."

He looks at her, eyebrows raised. "What, you don't just wash your face?"

Rachel looks at him as if he just shot her. "Wash my face? Finn, I'm sure you're aware that there is much more that goes into looking picture perfect than just 'washing my face'. I have to make sure to remove all of my makeup, touch up my eyebrows, have an ice bath facial, and _then_ wash my face," she says, before tapping a finger to her chin, thoughtfully. "I wonder how I can go about my ice bath tonight. I'm sure that if we asked at one of the restaurants they'd be willing to provide me with a bucket of ice, but I need to make sure that it's clean ice – nothing _dirty_." She looks at Finn knowingly. "I'm _very_ aware of how dirty restaurants can be when they think no one's looking. I've watched Kitchen Nightmares numerous times."

Finn laughs. "I hope you get this role, _just_ so I can interview you and inform the country about your crazy nighttime rituals."

"Your readers should consider themselves lucky to be able to read about me at all," Rachel says seriously, but she gives him a little smile after she says that.

Maybe she's being serious, but at least she's somewhat aware that she's kind of crazy.

He takes another sip of tea and she takes a bite out of the scone that he bought for her – when she protested something about carbs or whatever, he told her that they'd just act out her audition scene later that night, or they'd race up and down the hallways or something. She laughed when he said that, but eventually she agreed to let him buy her the scone.

It's raspberry, and she moans a little when she takes a bite.

"That good?"

"You have _no_ idea," Rachel says, and she holds it out to Finn, for him to try. He takes a bite, and he accidentally nips her finger when he does. She pouts, and he pulls away immediately.

"I'm sorry," he says earnestly, taking her finger in his hand so he can have a better look. "God, did that hurt?"

"A bit," Rachel says, and Finn looks at her finger closer. It doesn't seem as if there's any blood; just a tiny patch of reddened skin, right by her knuckle. He kisses her finger lightly, and she smiles at him when she pulls her hand away.

"It's already feeling better," Rachel says, and she smiles at Finn, taking another bite out of her scone. She makes another satisfied noise, and she sighs happily as she keeps eating her snack. She starts swinging her legs back and forth, and her feet brush against Finn's legs. She's wearing these high heeled black ankle boots, and Finn hadn't even thought of it before, but her feet have to be killing her.

"Don't your feet hurt?" he asks, just to make sure; because who knows, maybe along with enjoying play zombies, Rachel also enjoys killing her feet.

But she's definitely not a masochist because after he says that, she immediately starts nodding, even bending down to rub one of her ankles with her hand.

"Yes," she says, and she laughs self-deprecatingly as she continues to rub her ankle. "I'm sorry – I've been trying not to complain, because there's nothing worse than a woman who wears shoes and then complains about them incessantly." She blushes, and Finn glances back down at her legs. She's wearing these thick black tights, and the more he looks at it, the more her entire outfit just looks so uncomfortable.

"Were you going straight from the airport to your audition?" he asks, already knowing the answer, and he's not surprised when she nods, yes.

"I thought it'd be more efficient," Rachel explains, "and since I was supposed to fly out the next morning, I didn't bring a whole different outfit; just my pajamas, really." Finn supposes that would have been efficient, too – if the plane had actually taken off today.

He doesn't even have to ask to know that she didn't bring another pair of shoes. He stands up, and holds his hand out to Rachel, who looks up at him, confused.

"I'm not done with my tea," she protests lightly, but stands up anyway, holding onto her carryon luggage. He takes it out of her hands; it's one of those rolling suitcases, and it's bright pink, but whatever, he doesn't _really_ think people are going to think it's his luggage. He shoulders his briefcase and he grabs onto her hand, leading them out of the café.

She teeters beside him, her heels clicking loudly against the tiled floor. "Where are we going?" she asks, confused.

"You'll see," Finn says, and he smiles down at her. She smiles back up at him, and God, she's so fucking hot, and talented –she could so much better than a Jesse St. James movie, but he's not going to tell her that because he'd kind of prefer if they could get through the rest of this afternoon without bringing that guy's name up again.

Rachel giggles, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You're acting so chivalrous; carrying my suitcase, buying me tea and a scone…" she trails off hesitantly, looking down at the tiles as they continue walking towards the other end of the terminal. "Almost like you're flirting with me, Mr. Hudson."

"Maybe I am," he says, and Rachel just blushes, holds onto his hand a little tighter.

Finn's not sure where this is going, this whole thing between him and Rachel – he can't even remember the last time he held hands with a girl, for Christ's sake, and he's only known this woman for about eight hours – but it's fun, this whole snow day thing they have going on.

After a couple minutes, he stops them outside of one of those random convenience stores they always have around airports. Rachel looks at him questioningly, and he points to a rack of shoes that are on display right in the middle of the store.

Rachel bursts out into laughter. "I am _not_ wearing those," she says, but she takes a couple of steps closer to the Crocs, pushing her finger into the sole of one. She looks at Finn quickly before looking back at the Crocs. "They're hideous. And overpriced."

"And comfortable," Finn argues. "Look, I'm not saying you have to wear them on the plane. But if we're going to be here all night…" he trails off. "Besides, they have them in pink," he adds, pointing to a pair. "And I know you like pink."

He noticeably looks at her suitcase, and Rachel giggles. She shifts on her feet, looking down at her own shoes.

They're black and pointy and yeah, they look awesome on her, but _still_.

Rachel sighs, looking over at Finn. "If I wear those, you can't make fun of me," she says warningly. "And you absolutely cannot mention this in any interview whatsoever, or to any producer, or any director."

Finn nods, agreeing to her terms. Rachel puts her hand on her forehead, as if she can't believe what she's actually doing. Steeling herself, she walks over to the stand, pulling off a pair of the pink Crocs. She holds them in her hands, looking at them.

"I cannot believe I'm doing this," she says to herself. "Kurt would be absolutely horrified."

"Who's Kurt?" Finn asks, and Rachel glances at him.

"Oh, my best friend," she says, and she shudders. "He's also my own personal fashion guru, and if he saw me even considering buying these, he would disown me."

"Your secret's safe with me," Finn promises, and Rachel takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Finn finally grabs the shoes from her after a second, walking up to the register and paying for them himself. Rachel protests, saying,

"You don't have to do that! Honestly, I can pay for them myself," she says, embarrassed. The cashier hands the shoes back to Finn, who hands them to Rachel.

"I didn't want to have to wait another five hours," Finn says. She takes a hold of the shoes and she smiles at Finn, swaying a little back and forth.

"Well, now you've bought me tea, a scone, _and_ shoes. I wonder how I'm going to be able to make this up to you," Rachel says, pondering this as she and Finn walk out of the store.

"You can always buy me dinner," Finn says forwardly. Rachel smiles and they stop by a bench and sit down, so she can change shoes. She sighs happily the second her feet are out of the boots, and she manages to fit them insider her suitcase.

Putting the Crocs on, she waves her feet a little in front of herself, wiggling her toes.

"I'm certainly more comfortable now, that's for sure," Rachel says, and she looks at her watch, frowning. "I'm guessing our flight's officially cancelled. We would've heard something over the loudspeaker about boarding if it hadn't been, right?"

Finn nods and Rachel groans dramatically. "Well, LA will just have to wait until tomorrow," she says, in a resigned tone of voice, before standing back up. She brushes her hands on her dress, trying to get the wrinkles out. "I wonder if I can find a way to steam this before my audition," she says nervously, picking at a random thread that's loose around the hem. "I don't want to look messy or disorganized."

Finn shrugs. "There're always those random showers in some of the airport bathrooms," he says. "Just turn the hot water on for a while, I'm sure it'll get your dress all straightened out."

Rachel smiles at him, agreeing, then looks at her watch again. "Well, we still have a few more hours before it's dinner time. What should we do to pass the time?" she asks innocently, looking over at Finn. He thinks for a second and then he decides that they should buy some magazines, see how many random stories he can think of concerning the celebrities inside. Rachel seems into the whole celebrity thing, and it's not like he really has anyone else in his life that cares about these stories.

So they buy a bunch of magazines, and she points out a celebrity and he'll tell her some embarrassing story about how that guy cried for hours when his favorite restaurant didn't have the exact type of rice he wanted, or how that girl says she's a good parent but that Finn's never seen her at an interview without at least three nannies in tow. Rachel has to guess if the story he's telling is true or not, and even though she guesses right every single time, he doesn't tell her whether she's making the correct guess or not. He has to maintain _some_ semblance of responsibility.

It feels good to laugh with Rachel about this, though, laugh with someone about how ridiculous his job is, how ridiculous at times people are. And it's funny, because Rachel points out that someday, he's probably going to consider _her_ ridiculous.

He just smiles and says that he already thinks she's ridiculous; but he still likes her.

"Well, I think you're a little ridiculous, too," Rachel retorts. "You bought a girl you just met Crocs, and you practiced a scene about zombies with her. That's not exactly _normal_ behavior."

Well. She has a point.

-x-

Rachel buys them salads to-go, and they eat them at their original gate. Their terminal's a little less crowded now; some people went to a hotel that's right by the airport, and Finn and Rachel had originally thought of maybe splitting a room for the night, but by the time they inquired about that, the hotel concierge had told them that they were booked solid.

So now, they're taking up a row of seats, their luggage propped up next to them and their jackets covering their laps like blankets.

Rachel spears a tomato and pops it into her mouth, and shivers.

"It's chilly in here," she says conversationally. "You'd think they'd turn the heat up a few degrees, if they knew that we were all going to be stranded here for the night."

Finn nods in agreement. "Yeah, but hopefully it's only for one night," he says, and Rachel sighs.

"I probably won't even be able to sleep at all. All these noises, and people," she says. "I have a difficult enough time getting to sleep at my apartment with all the noises that go on outside."

Finn shrugs. "I dunno. I think if you get tired enough, you'll pass out." Rachel looks at him unsurely, then at her luggage.

"I don't want someone stealing my things, though," she says, and she shakes her head. "No, I just won't sleep tonight – or I will, but I'll wait until mostly everyone else is asleep. That way, I can be assured that nothing will happen to my luggage."

"I'm not sure thatpeople are going to want to steal a sparkly, pink suitcase," Finn says, and then adds on, "unless they really want to find your script and know the ending of A Zombie in Love."

Rachel giggles. "You never know. Some people might have been very excited about my performance," she says, defending herself, and then puts her empty salad container down. She glances at her dress, then back at her luggage. "I think I'm going to attempt to steam my dress out now," she tells Finn.

"K," he says, and she just looks at him expectantly. He's confused for a second, before he asks, "wait, do you want my help or something?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Not exactly. But it might take a while, and I'd like to have some company while I wallow in misery about the fact that I worked so _hard_ to get this audition and yet, Mother Nature decided to completely plunge my life into the depths of despair."

She says this so solemnly that Finn's afraid she like, might start to cry if he says no. One thing he's learned about Rachel during the past few hours is that when Rachel truly feels that something's life or death – in her mind, it really _is_ life or death.

So, he pulls her suitcase and carries his briefcase over to the women's restroom; he's pretty much thinking that he's just going to wait outside or whatever, but the next thing he knows, Rachel's pulling him into the family restroom that's in between the women's and men's bathrooms.

It's a single bathroom, and she locks the door behind them.

"There," Rachel says brightly. "Now, we can both be in the bathroom at the same time and not have to worry about someone interrupting us."

"But what if like, a family needs to use this restroom?" Finn asks, confused, and Rachel waves off his concern.

"There are other bathrooms in this airport – and besides, now you don't have to wait outside while I see if this actually works. It's a win-win situation for everyone," Rachel explains, then sighs. "I also really don't want to be seen standing in my pajamas, while I hold a dress up to some steam, in front of random women walking in and out of the bathroom. It's not very dignified."

Finn's not sure if he trusts her reasoning, and he's pretty sure that there have to be some sort of like, rules or something about not using the family bathroom for things other than family business… but whatever. At least she's not wallowing yet, and he's actually kind of curious to see what type of pajamas she wears.

He's not curious in a _perverted_ way, just in a -.

You know. Rachel's hot, and she has a kickass body, and he wants to see what she wears to bed, kind of way.

There's a shower in this bathroom, and she reaches over to turn it on high. Within a few seconds, the steam is starting to build in the room. Rachel looks over at him a little hesitantly, and she takes off her coat slowly.

"I'm going to change now," she says, almost like an announcement.

It sort of startles Finn out of his thinking (he's debating about whether she wears matching pajamas, or if she wears just sweatpants and a t-shirt; he's almost positive she's going to be wearing like, matching heart pajamas or something) and he turns around quickly so that he's not facing her.

"Sorry," he says, and he winces because fuck, it's not like he has to be apologizing or something – she's the one who invited him in here. But she just tells him that it's okay, and a couple of seconds later he can hear some rustling, and he knows that she's taking her jacket off.

Then he hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered, and it's _so_ embarrassing, but he has to start thinking about this mailman that he almost ran over back when he was a sophomore in high school. For some reason, whenever he thinks about that mailman, it always kind of calms him down in situations where he should _not_ be getting horny. Stupid, but it's always worked.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, because honestly, he's trying to think about the mailman but he's also thinking about Rachel, and the fact that she's probably _naked_ behind him. And yeah, he's not like, desperate or anything, but he hasn't had sex since him and Quinn broke up, and Rachel's beautiful. He figures that it's totally natural to be wanting her this badly; in fact, it's probably like, healthy, right?

"Shoot," Rachel says quietly, and Finn almost turns around before he realize that she's probably still naked. Swallowing thickly, he asks,

"Everything okay?" And dammit if his voice doesn't break when he's talking; he's twenty-six and he sounds like he's in junior high.

"Oh, yes," Rachel says distractedly. "I'm just – my one ankle's bleeding a bit, from my shoes. It bled through my tights."

Finn can't help himself. He turns his head around, just a little, to see her.

She's leaning against the counter of the sink, in just her bra and panties; her tights are almost completely off, except for the part that's apparently stuck to her ankle. Finn grimaces a little, because seriously, why do girls _do_ this to themselves? He couldn't imagine having to wear shoes like they do.

"Do you need help?" Finn asks, and Rachel looks up at him, then quickly down at herself, and covers her stomach with her arms, blushing slightly.

"No, it's fine," she says, and she reaches down to pull at the tights gently. She lets out a little yelp of pain as the tights come off, and Finn glances down at her ankle. There's a little trickle of blood trailing down towards her foot, and he immediately grabs some toilet paper off from the roll, bends down to her foot so that he can wipe it off.

"You really don't have to," Rachel says, as he blots at her skin. He ignores her, though, and continues to wipe at the skin until all of the blood is gone. Slowly, he stands back up, and Rachel looks up at him.

He's not sure if this is the best decision he's ever made, but he's been thinking about it all day, so he decides to just run with it.

He kisses her.

She doesn't respond at first, just stands there stock still. Finn's not sure if she's disgusted or upset, so he doesn't move either, just keeps his lips pressed against hers. After a moment, though, Rachel pulls away from him, touches her lips with her fingers.

"I don't – I don't usually do this sort of thing," she says, almost unsteadily. Finn immediately apologizes.

"Fuck, I'm sorry – I don't either, it's just – I don't know, I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking," he says, fumbling for words. "You probably think I'm such an idiot, I'm not – I'm not trying to take advantage of you or _anything_-."

Rachel reaches up, wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him.

"I don't think you would've bought me Crocs if you were trying to seduce me in an ill-willed manner," she says quietly, and he chuckles, because that's actually a pretty good point. Rachel clears her throat, but doesn't take her arms away from him; if anything, she pulls him a little closer. "Please don't think I'm promiscuous or anything of that nature," she says, looking him in the eyes. "But I'm not sure if I'd be entirely opposed to, um…" she trails off, laughing delicately, then glances over at the shower, before looking back at him.

He doesn't know what to say, because he's never really had this random of a hook-up before – in a bathroom, at an airport? – but honestly, he's not really opposed to what she's suggesting, either. He's kind of been thinking about her all day, and now that she's actually saying he can have her.

Well. He's not going to say _no_.

About ten minutes later, they're in the shower stall at a bathroom airport, and he kind of can't fucking believe this is happening. She goes down on him and it's hysterical, because she's afraid about germs, so she's wearing her _Crocs_ as she's doing this. So when he looks down, all he sees is this tiny girl sucking him off while wearing a pair of hot pink Crocs, and the whole picture is just so damn funny and awesome at the same time, and he laughs when he comes because he's never felt so exhilarated before.

She stands up once she's done, and she smiles at him, giggling also. "This is so completely surreal," she says breathlessly, and he nods in agreement, putting his arms around her waist so that he can lift her up in the air a little, plant his lips against hers.

She wraps her legs around his waist and when he fucks her against the bathroom wall, her shoes are digging into his skin. He's having a hell of a time concentrating already because like, there are boobs, and her hair, and her ass, and this is all totally awesome because this is by far the most public space that he's ever had sex in and he's trying to enjoy it and make sure _she_ enjoys it… but he's got this sensation of plastic digging into his skin. So he makes her kick the Crocs off (after assuring her _repeatedly_ that the minute they're done having sex, he'll put them back on for her) and then he gets into it more. He thrusts into her a little harder and she lets out these breathy moans that kill him in the best possible way, that make him just want to fuck her harder and harder.

And she clamps her thighs tighter around him and she presses her arms tighter around him and then it feels like _everything_ is tighter around him and she comes loudly, biting his shoulder as she lets out a deep, deep moan.

He comes a couple minutes later, and when he's coming down, she whispers into his ear, "I'll never admit this again, especially not once I've been cast in A Zombie in Love, but I'm so glad there was a snow storm today."

He kisses her by her ear chastely, then looks over his shoulder at her dress that's lying discarded on the floor. He grins.

"Hey! The wrinkles are out," Finn says proudly and Rachel giggles, laying her head against his shoulder.

"Thank goodness. I was so worried about _that_ this whole time," she teases gently, and Finn looks back at her.

Rachel's smiling at him and he's not sure if this is like, proper post-random hookup etiquette or whatever… but he kisses her again.

-x-

Once they're done dewrinkling Rachel's dress, they exit the bathroom one at a time, before going over to a restaurant that's still open, so they can get Rachel her ice bath facial. She literally sticks her face into a bowl of ice, and Finn can't understand for the life of him why she would possibly do that. But she looks happy once she's done, so he figures that maybe it's just some sort of actress thing that he doesn't know about.

After the ice bath facial, they walk back to their gate. Finn spreads their jackets out on the floor, and they lay down together, using their luggage as shitty, makeshift pillows. It's not the worst night of sleep Finn's ever had, because Rachel makes all these cute noises when she's tired and she's funny when she's startled awake by the random noises of the airport.

Their flight eventually takes off the next morning, at around eight-thirty. Finn tries to sleep for a while, but he gives up because about ten minutes into the flight, Rachel tries to grill him for more information about Santana and Jesse, and Finn's found that a great way to get Rachel to stop asking him questions about work is to kiss her.

So he kisses her a lot throughout that flight and especially after Rachel says something about always wanting to be able to be a part of the mile high club. It takes a little planning, but by the time the plane has reached LA, Finn and Rachel have crossed that off her Never have I Ever list.

When the plane does land in LA, Finn's not really sure how to go about saying goodbye to her. He figures that asking for her phone number isn't too forward of him – they did have sex a couple of times and he actually thinks it might be considered rude if he _doesn't_ ask for it. But he also doesn't want her to have to call him if she doesn't want to, and as he's debating about how to go about this whole thing, Rachel turns to him.

"So, when are you flying back to New York?" she asks.

"A couple of days – I think on Wednesday," Finn says. "It just depends on when my one interview was rescheduled."

She nods slowly, plays with the necklace that she's wearing around her neck. "I'll be back there tomorrow afternoon," she says, and then smiles. "I'd love to be able to meet up once you're back in town; tell you how my audition went."

Rachel looks at him nervously, as if he's going to say no.

Finn grins. "Yeah. That'd be great."

-x-

A/N2: And with that, I think I'm officially out of steam for one-shots. Back to focusing on Marigold Yellow and Ocean Blue for a while! Hope you enjoyed this story!


End file.
